


Correct Terminology

by rufeepeach



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-22
Updated: 2012-07-22
Packaged: 2017-11-10 11:55:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/465986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rufeepeach/pseuds/rufeepeach
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Belle doesn’t like not having words for things. Rum helps educate her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Correct Terminology

Belle was born and raised in the Enchanted Forest: her vocabulary, in this new world, felt sorely lacking.  
  
But she could cope with ‘microwave’ for the box in the corner that heated food so swiftly, and ‘television’ for the magic mirror that couldn’t hear her, and even ‘computer’ for the device that allowed words to appear as buttons were pressed, and did sums without pen and paper.  
  
All of these, she could chalk up to a new world and new expertise: she doubted the natives to this land would know the proper method for polishing a suit of armour ready for battle if it bit them on the nose.  
  
But there were some things that had existed in the old world, which Belle - sadly lacking in Storybrooke implanted memories, unlike Ruby or Mary Margaret - could not put names to.  
  
She found this most frustrating when, in bed with her husband, he decided to tie her to the bedposts and kneel between her legs, so he could tease her by making her ask for what she wished him to do.  
  
Red-faced, flushed and near-incoherent from his tongue lapping against her, his fingers curled inside her for what felt like eternity and only recently removed, she found herself begging, “Please, please just… inside, please…”  
  
“Please what, with these?” he lifted a hand, waggled his glistening fingers, and she moaned and tossed back her head.  
  
“No, not… with… please?”  
  
“With what, dear? Be specific now…”  
  
She tried to think, honestly she did, but all she had was an image and sense-memory of what she needed, and with her hands bound behind her head she couldn’t even gesture. Books on anatomy had, naturally, been restricted from princesses in her kingdom, and she hadn’t had a whole lot of reading time in the Dark Castle.  
  
She could find books tomorrow: this was a pressing matter right now.  
  
“With… your…” he looked at her, and he was far too amused by this. It wasn’t her fault that her upbringing had been hopelessly sheltered, or that her education in these matters had been practical rather than theoretical: actions rather than words. “Magic wand?” she tried, helplessly, and when he raised an eyebrow and looked as if he was holding back his chuckling she knew she’d got it wrong.  
  
“Well, you have claimed it to perform cursed miracles before,” he smiled, head cocked to one side, “But unfortunately the last wand I possessed ended up in my cane, and we’re not doing that again. Not this time. Try again, dear,” he moved up her body, lined them up, breathed into her ear, “What do you want inside you?”  
  
“Your…” she sighed, tried desperately to think as he waited, toying with her nipple almost absentmindedly. She was half-crazed with needing him, and his teasing didn’t make thinking any easier. She rather thought that might be the point. Anatomically speaking, she knew the soft, mobile parts of the body were muscle rather than bone. “Love muscle?” she tried again, and felt as well as heard his huff of laughter against her neck.  
  
He pressed an affectionate kiss there, nuzzled, and she sighed, arching into him, “You’re so innocent, it’s adorable.” he murmured, and she felt a little offended, tied to his bed as she was, all but begging for him to just get inside her already. “Is this what you want?” he relented, rubbing his length against her aching centre, and she nodded, biting on her lip to keep from sobbing. He smiled, a leering, smirking kind of smile that sent a bolt of heat right through her.  
  
He thrust deep inside her and she arched her back and keened, “Yes!”  
  
“This, love,” he grunted, as he pulled out and slammed back inside her, “Is called a cock.” she moaned and cried out at just the sound of his voice, trying to commit the word to memory even as she felt herself so close to completion, pleasure spiralling in her belly and racing through every nerve ending, “Say it,” he growled into her ear, “Beg for it.”  
  
“Please, Rum, please,” she moaned, “Take me, use your…” she fumbled for the word he’d used, “…cock?”  
  
She knew she’d got it right when he bit down on the side of her neck, suckled the sensitive skin and increased his pace, pounding her into the bed. She came with a strangled cry, falling apart around him as the pleasure burst behind her eyes, showing her a galaxy of stars and shimmering lights.  
  
He groaned as she clenched around him, and his thrust became jerky, erratic, as her climax triggered his own and he fell with her, riding out his completion until he collapsed, boneless, sprawled across her. He released her bound hands weakly, and she relaxed her arms with a sigh, as he rolled them so she was curled against his chest.  
  
“That wasn’t nice, Rum,” she chided, when she felt she could speak, but the smile stayed on her lips anyway, “You know there’re things I don’t know yet.”  
  
“I apologise, love,” he grinned, unrepentantly, “At least your euphemisms were better than some alternatives. ‘Magic wand’ is awful, but it’s better than ‘power drill’, I guess.”  
  
“Hmm,” she frowned, sleepily, “What on earth is a power drill?”  
  
She heard him answer, distantly, but she was too warm and comfortable to care for the response. She could look it up tomorrow, when she would educate herself on other bedroom matters at the library. She wouldn’t be caught out twice.  



End file.
